


Planes, planes, and Automobiles.

by malfoible



Series: Valentine Tales. [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 03:18:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5990131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malfoible/pseuds/malfoible





	Planes, planes, and Automobiles.

It was a few hours into his journey, when the rain had turned to sleet and then the sleet had turned to snow, that Q realised that driving to a remote cottage in the Lake District in the middle of February was probably not such a good idea.

He had been looking forward to this break. They both had, himself and James.  
January had been busy for 007. Assignments back to back.  
Only a quick journey home in between. They had both missed the closeness.

Tanner had suggested the cottage one day when Q was having a moan.

“It’s away from everything and everyone. Perfect for a romantic getaway. Mother doesn’t rent it out much at this time of year.”

Q had mentioned it to Bond during one of their evening phone calls.

James had jumped at the idea.  
“Yes, let’s do it. We haven’t had a weekend alone, off the grid, since our honeymoon. Think of it, you, me, naked, making love in front of a roaring fire.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m trying to be romantic here.”

“Not feeling romantic, feeling horny and frustrated. Remember that time you ripped my pants off almost as soon as you got home, began to drag me upstairs then couldn’t wait and bent me over the banister…that’s how I’m feeling right now.”

“Oh yes…that was so…”he moaned.

“You’re having a wank, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t you.”

“I am now…let’s start at the beginning…you flung open the door and saw me standing there…”

Fifteen minutes later, relieved if not satisfied, Q said. “ Not bad, not as good as having you here but fun.”

“Book the cottage, I’ll be back then and hopefully not have to go away for a while. I love you, goodnight sweetheart.”

“Goodnight James.” 

Q had arranged with Tanner to have the cottage for this weekend and James was flying home from Seattle where he had been for a meeting.

Q had packed the car with a hamper of food and drink and set out in the Aston.

He hadn’t driven it very often but the long line of traffic going north out of the city made it easy for him to get used to the controls.

From High Barnet to the junction with the M1 it rained incessantly.  
This turned to sleet when he reached the M6.  
Then as he reached the outskirts of Stoke, snow began to fall, heavier and heavier.  
He pulled over at the services outside Penrith.  
The break did him good.

Leaving the café he noticed a small group of young men surrounding the Aston, they didn’t look to be doing any harm but Q couldn’t resist teasing them.  
Using the remote control in his pocket he started the engine, drove it back and forth a few times then swung it round in a large circle to pick him up.  
The expressions on their faces, plus the hot coffee and sandwiches had lightened his mood.  
He had no worries now that he would not reach his destination.

Driving through the falling snow he thought of a couple of modifications he had himself made to the car.   
The extra traction made driving much easier and he didn’t falter even when he left the motorway and began driving along the winding country lanes.  
The road began to climb and he talked to the car all the way to the top, when he arrived at his destination he wanted to pat her as you would a horse.  
He parked her in the adjoining garage and entered the cottage with his luggage.

It was small but cosy, bedroom, bathroom, sitting room, kitchen.  
Fires had been laid ready to light in the sitting room and the bedroom.   
The local farmer who acted as landlord had left milk, eggs, bacon and butter and had lit the large stove in the kitchen.  
Q soon lit the other fires and the whole place began to warm up.  
He unpacked the food and made a pot of tea.  
He took this together with a packet of biscuits and a large glass of wine into the sitting room.  
He snuggled on the sofa pulling a blanket over himself.  
He looked at his watch. Surely James would be on the plane by now.

 

Bond had had to change planes in Chicago, the time was short and he had to force himself not to run through the airport.  
Authorities do not like people running through airports.  
He reached the gate with seconds to spare and was soon seated on the plane.  
He looked at his watch, Q would be on his way to the cottage by now.  
He closed his eyes and imagined being there with him. Lying on a rug in front of a roaring fire, making love…

“Would you like a drink sir?” The steward asked smiling down at him.

James jumped, had he been moaning aloud? 

“Scotch please, make it a large one.”

“Of course sir.”

After the drinks had come the duty free trolley, then the dinner trolley…some odd pasta dish with cheese and crackers.   
Another drink, then the lights went down.  
He watched a film. A new movie by Guy Richie about two spies { a remake of an old TV program}.  
One American and one Russian.  
It was plain they wanted to sleep together but they kept getting interrupted by the woman who had been added into the mix no doubt to appease the censors.  
It was light and fluffy and James enjoyed in enormously. After another scotch he felt asleep.

He was wakened by an announcement and looking at the time thought they must be about to land… no such luck.

“Due to inclement weather in England we have been informed that we will not be able to land at Manchester. So we are landing in Dublin to wait for an open window to another airport perhaps Stanstead.”

James groan was echoed by the lady in the next seat. 

“Stanstead! About as far away from where I need to be as Dublin. Bloody weather.”

Bond usually philosophical about delays, was annoyed. The one time it was important to be home. The one time. 

More announcements followed. More delays then finally they were told the plane would be going nowhere for eight hours.  
They could deplane if they wished. 

Bond alighted went through customs then back through to departures.  
He went to the desk.  
Could he fly to somewhere else?  
Yes he could he could fly to Belfast.   
Could he fly anywhere from Belfast?   
Yes he could he could fly to Glasgow.  
He booked tickets, at least he would be in the right country, more or less.

Each plane journey took less time than the actual time wasted in each airport. He was at the car rental in Glasgow by mid- afternoon.  
The rental was not up to his usual choice of car but at least he was on his way.   
The weather was terrible, snowing thick and heavy but he was pleased with himself.  
He sang along to the radio, only taking notice of breaks in transmission to warn him of perilous roads in the area he was heading.  
He had had no calls or messages from Q except to say he had arrived safely.

The roads were passable on the motorways but he was concerned when he began to travel the winding country lanes.  
Then almost at his destination {according to the sat-nav] the car was not able to climb the very steep hill.  
Getting this far, nothing was going to stop him reaching his husband.  
Leaving the car, he pulled on his coat at began to climb. Tracks he thought were from the Aston led him up the hill.

Q was beginning to worry. He had heard nothing from James for hours.  
Shouldn’t he be on his way? Had the plane landed? Was he stuck in the snow? He looked at the clock almost ten o’clock.  
This place was difficult to find in the dark. He hoped James was alright.

A bang on the door startled him.

The figure on the doorstep was enormous and covered in snow. Only the eyes were visible.

“James! I didn’t hear a car. You must be freezing.”

“Walked, climbed the hill, yes. Cold.” James voice puffed out cold air in a sigh, pleased he had finally arrived.

He moved to the fire and began stripping off his wet things.  
Q paused on the way upstairs to get a change of clothes and went over to James instead, pulling a blanket from the couch and wrapping it round him.  
He rubbed his arms and kissed his mouth.

“You’re freezing.” he rubbed harder and James pulled him into his arms claiming his mouth. The heat from Q’s body began to warm him through. 

He ran one hand up to hold his head while he kissed him.  
Soon he was feeling better…he grinned as he slid one hand down Q’s back and slipped his fingers down the back of his pants.

“You’re fingers are icy.”

“Do you want me to stop.”

“NO, NO, NO, Oh…” Q pressed back against James fingers.

Three steps and they were lying on the couch.  
James began slowly, gently touching, caressing, but Q was needy, rolling James onto his back and slamming down onto him….

Q leaned forward tracing James’ lips with his tongue then sucking his bottom lip into his mouth.

“Warmer now 007?”

“You know you always make me hot.” He smiled.

Q burst out laughing and James had to hold him steady by the waist as he rocked up hard and fast to finish them off.

Q collapsed onto James’ chest as they kissed and murmured words of love.

They talked about their journey.  
James about not wanting to run through the airport and the annoyed woman on the plane and Q told about the trick he had played at the service station.  
They laughed and kissed some more. Happy and content.

 

They snuggled under the blanket, the heat from the fire warm and cosy, they drifted into sleep.

The clock on the mantel chimed and James lifted his head, noticing the time he woke his lover with a kiss.

“Happy Valentine’s Day sweetheart.”


End file.
